


Literally a Cloud of Sex Pollen

by Wandering_Swain



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (2014), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, F/M, Fingering, Fisting, Ha no seriously no kids allowed go away, LITERALLY, M/M, Multi, Off-screen Relationship(s), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Pollen, There is nothing redeemable about this fic, Threesome - F/M/M, Xenophilia, porn collection, won't somebody please think of the children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 20:27:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2786600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wandering_Swain/pseuds/Wandering_Swain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gamora realizes she’s had a lot of energy over the past few hours. After a mission, much less a manhunt, she jumps rope for a few minutes and heads to bed for a nap.  Suspiciously, her stamina seems to have increased. </p>
<p>The team encounters interstellar sex pollen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Literally a Cloud of Sex Pollen

**Author's Note:**

> Absolutely nothing redeemable about this story ensues. Did you see the fisting tag? No? I direct your attention to the fisting tag.
> 
> Recommended musical accompaniment: "[Keep it Comin' Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zw08wUJLGpo)" by KC & the Sunshine Band
> 
> No beta readers were used for this fic. Please let me know if you see any grievous errors.

During a hunt for a bounty they will not find, the Guardians of the Galaxy trek through a murky bog on an otherwise metropolitan planet. It’s chiefly known for its celebrity pleasure domes. Its bogs, as a result, are largely ignored in news feeds regarding the sector. Also, they are uninhabitable and not-at-all sexy. Thus, Gamora thinks very little of the golden pollen cloud they stumble through. Or the green blossoms that cough dust onto Drax’s shoulders. 

Perhaps it could be she is stupid. Her planet had such pollen on it. A childhood of systemized abuse has scrambled her most useful instincts. She knows so much of bloodlust, that she doesn’t realize there were even pheromones in the pollen until she’s doing sit-ups in their makeshift gym on the Milano. 

Gamora realizes she’s had a lot of energy over the past few hours. After a mission, much less a manhunt, she jumps rope for a few minutes and heads to bed for a nap. Suspiciously, her stamina seems to have increased. She returns to the gym after a shower, bitterly regretting that she was not able to go to one of the pleasure domes.

Not that she was planning on doing anything, really.

At least nothing or no one too expensive.

Peter insisted they buy a punching bag for the gym. Behind it, they have placed a mirror she has, predictably, cracked twice. She leans forward to examine her pupils. They’re wide.

Gamora runs one hand over the back of her other and shudders. Every tiny hair reacts to the touch. It doesn’t matter that it’s her own. She presses a knuckle into the groove between her legs—gently, gently—and moves it back and forth. Then she lets out a strangled gasp and leans against the wall for support.

Well then.

Peter is the captain. She has to go see him. It’s likely she’ll regret it, as she can already feel her inhibitions grow hazy, but her pulse is high and even the sigh of her leggings as she walks make her shiver. 

Considering his usual enthusiasm for carnal pursuits, she doubts he’s noticed anything out of the ordinary. So Gamora is blunt when she knocks on his door. “Are you masturbating in there?”

“Oh. My. God.” She hears Peter scramble. When he opens it, he adjusts his pants. “Okay, privacy. That’s the topic of the crew’s next meeting.” 

“This is of immediate importance.”

“Why is my snake mastering any of your business?”

“Because my libido is similarly affected.” His pupils are blown, too, and a thin sheen of sweat makes his brow glow. “I am wildly attracted to everything right now.”

Peter’s adam’s apple bobs. “Is this a beginning of a porno?” 

She sighs. “No.”

“All right. Did we walk through pheromone-producing plants?”

Gamora is genuinely impressed. “That’s my hypothesis.” 

He stares at her. 

She waits for the sounds of disbelief. 

“Does everyone on board have to fuck each other or else we die?” he finally says.

“The holo-skin flicks about it are mere fictions! The real pollen allows sex to be perfectly optional. If anyone tells you different, it’s because they wish to pleasure themselves with you.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. It’s only an aphrodisiac. Just an insistent one.” 

“Which is imported to the pleasure domes on Gyra and is why the species makes the most profitable business in the sector from their natural resources. Awesome.” Peter rubs his temples, indicating things aren’t awesome at all. “Jesus. Do we tell everyone else?”

He is terribly well-informed. Feeling light headed around Peter, Gamora says she will find Rocket and Groot while he can look for Drax. Peter is utterly squeamish at the thought of their two least biped-like teammates together. This, Gamora assumes, is because they don’t look Terran enough for Peter’s tastes. Or have tentacles.

She discovers them napping in their quarters. The inside of their room smells of pine. Rocket twitches, curled up in the crook of Groot’s arm. Groot’s mouth is slack. They don’t appear to have just finished a session of lovemaking, but what does Gamora know? It does, however, look as if they just came back to their room and fell into each other’s arms.

It’s awfully sweet, she thinks. 

“Enough! You have no right to proposition me.” Drax is loud. “I can maintain no erection when not in heat, though it is no business of yours.”

Peter makes an indignant squawk as the door to Drax’s quarters is shut in his face.

Rocket stirs, removing his snout from Groot’s armpit and twitching his nose. Gamora quickly shuts their door so neither is bothered. 

Peter jabs an angry finger at Drax’s door. “Like I even wanted to fuck you, man!”

“Explain when the pollen has made its way out of our systems,” she says. “He will have put it all together by then.”

“Yeah?”

“It will save confusion and anger now.”

“Maybe he’s not even affected by it the way we are. Some immune systems and whatever aren’t going to react the same to this kind of stuff, you know?”

She doubts this. The alcohol and antibiotics the rest of the crew indulge in seems to affect Drax just the same. “If he chooses to be left alone, then we will do so.”

“‘We?’” He doesn’t look flirtatious but genuinely curious.

“I suggest we, alone, return to our private quarters to indulge in our respective collections of pornography!” she announces.

Peter laughs at her. “Oh, jeez, what collection? I got, like, a broken holo-vid and a couple interactive games. In one, the girls are mostly tentacles, and you know, that’s only when I’m in a certain mood.”

Gamora stares at him. “That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard anyone tell.”

“I’m not kidding. I’ve had to get rid of most of my stuff every couple years since I started living with the Ravagers except for the things I got squeezed into my backpack. Far as I know? I could lose the Milano at any time.”

She remains incredulous.

He clucks his tongue. “My imagination is raunchy enough, I promise. Why, you packing away all the spank material?”

Gamora accepts his challenge. She shows him what she has, pulling out one box after another of the disks and various cubes.

“That’s his entire fist,” he says during their fourth holo. A projection of two Xandarian men couple furiously on the small platform in the common room. “How is he even doing that? And the other guy’s laughing! Look at him!”

“It is also for when I’m in a mood, as you said.” Gamora is satisfied at Peter’s reaction. Her own interest in the holo, meanwhile, causes her sex to thrum between her legs like a newly strung bow. She wants to push her fingers into her drooling cunt in warm, dark privacy, allow her internal tendrils to greet her hand. She feels the dampness as she shifts. “But you are uninterested, I’m sure.”

“I’m interested in seeing whether that guy’s alive,” says Peter. “I’ve thought about doing that.”

“Taking a fist?” Gamora has several holos containing the act for the express purpose that it’s the sort of fantasy she would rather see than participate in.

Peter nods and leans forward from the couch. “Oh, sure. Spend the night with a certain kind of big guy—muscley, kind of a meat head—and he dirty talks like that. You know, like, ‘I’m going to spread your man pussy and fuck it wide open. Gonna groom me a nice slut out of you. How would you like me to make a toy out of your ass?’”

Gamora indeed believes he has a raunchy imagination. She presses the pad of a finger over the dimpled groove in her leggings. The literal descriptions sound an awful lot like the way Drax talks. “And you like that when you’re with men?”

“I’ve collected a sizeable collection of toys, I guess. I practice.” He lets out a nervous giggle, flicks on another holo, and excuses himself to the kitchen. 

This one is a favorite of Gamora’s. In it, a pair of Xandarian women collar a lean, pretty man. They kiss and undress him slowly, sweetly, until they force him to walk on his hands and knees. Together, they chat happily as he brings them their shoes and assorted sexual implements in his mouth. When he doesn’t follow their orders, one forces him to tongue her sex while the other spanks him along his thighs with a switch.

“I can’t tell if he’s in pain or not.” Peter laughs as he returns with a bag of dried slugs. “Either way, he’s totally into it. Damn.”

Gamora’s breathing is ragged. “There’s a point where the two blur together.”

“I guess I know what you mean. It’s nice to be rough-housed if you want it.” He tosses a slug and catches it in his mouth, transfixed as the man sighs as a woman fingers him. “And don’t let me stop you, by the way.”

She freezes.

“If you want to, go for it.” Peter’s eyes move briefly away from the projection to Gamora’s legs and then back again.

Rather than ask if he, himself, is uncomfortable or if he would mind turning away, she shucks her leggings down her thighs. Her underwear, when she pulls it away, has threads of her own green cum clinging to it. They snap when she rolls it down her body.

“Fuck,” she says as she pushes her fingers inside herself to the knuckle.

Peter continues to watch the holos. He’s so casual about it. His apparent calm drives her on further.

As she desperately impales herself on her fingers, she spreads her legs. Her knees stutter open and closed.

He sets aside his bag and, without looking away from the holo, puts a hand on her thigh. Then he waits.

“Yes,” she says.

Peter continues to wait. The sly smile on his mouth makes her laugh.

“Yes, please!”

And his hand drifts up her leg to her dripping sex, wrapping the tendrils around his fingers and pulling them out of her body. She moans. The calluses feel good. Rough and well-earned. She can smell her own desire as he skates his fingers along her pussy and, with ease, pushes inside her.

She sees stars. “Fuck me with your fingers. Like your Terran cock.”

He does. Certainly, Peter is used to people eroticizing his exotic genitalia. She sees it pushing out of his now open fly, the organ flushed tall and the sack lightly furred. It flares at the tip where Gamora is used to penises being smooth or, in the case of Xandarians, ribbed.

Riding his hand, she whines. Her head is full of stars that break into whiteness when he adds a third finger to cleave her in two.

Then he kneels in front of her, lips parted. His beautiful pink tongue, his lovely mouth, look so hungry as he presses down to kiss her clit. He seals his mouth over her opening, wetly, and she tightens her thighs on either side of his head.

“I thought you were lying in the way you sometimes do, Quill,” says Drax. “I was unaware that you were serious.”

The pollen has so clouded Gamora’s mind, she does not hear Drax come in, much less lean on the couch beside her with crossed arms. He no longer looks angry but amused.

Peter looks up but her grip on his head tightens, her fingers now in his hair.

“Sex...pollen.” It’s very difficult for her to talk. “We can speak at—length—when I’ve—after I’ve--” She’s so close. 

Drax palms her breast through her clothes. “Take your time,” he says as he runs a thumb along the protruding nipple.

She rolls her hips under Peter’s tongue. “More! Yes!”

With a pinch, Drax smirks and removes his hand. Then he pushes it up her shirt and cups bare skin.

Gamora cums with her mouth open, a long keening. Her tendrils massage Peter’s throat, which he seems to like well enough.

When her mind clears enough for her to be present in her body again, she looks down to see Peter lifting his face. His beard drips with green and his eyes are wide with laughter. “Huh. I think you almost suffocated me.”

“In my culture, that is called a glorious death.” Drax releases Gamora’s chest. “My apologies for disbelieving you earlier, friend. I did think you were attempting to seduce me when I am currently unable to achieve an erection. I’m afraid that while I feel pleasure, my species is physically unable to offer pleasure like this.”

“Dude, I’m so hard right now, I would fuck granite.”

“May I recommend myself as a more comfortable alternative? I’ve never been with a man, but I have thought of them sometimes.” Drax’s smile is slow as he examines Peter. “Which is to say, I have thought of you.”

Peter looks as if he’s been given an exceptional gift. He chuckles. “Well, fuck me!”

Drax grabs Peter.

Gamora’s comfortable enough from her orgasm to watch, heavy-lidded and pleased, as Drax sits beside her on the couch with Peter on his lap. 

He rolls down Quill’s leather pants and when Drax begins to finger him, Peter’s moan is jagged. Gamora gets up on her bare knees to watch. She leans on Drax’s shoulder, hears the rumble under his skin as he quietly laughs.

Peter looks down at those fingers, dopey and open-mouthed. “Oh God, oh God, oh God.”

“Be firmer with him,” she says into the blue shell of Drax’s ear. “Speak to him in a strict, rough manner.”

“That can be done.” Drax pushes a digit into Peter and they both watch him convulse. “He is, after all, a whore. My apologies for giving the label to you.”

Gamora glances over at the holos with a smirk. “I have aspirations of getting pleasure rather than simply giving it, I’m afraid.”

Peter grunts, raising himself and falling right back down on Drax’s hand. His Terran cock remains standing tall.

Through the convenient haze of the pollen, she says, “I should get you both some lubricant.”

Peter gives her a devastating grin. “You were making a ton of that just now.” And he leans forward and kisses Drax, who sighs into his mouth. She can hear the wet slide of their tongues against each other. Peter even knits his hands behind Drax’s thick neck, and it looks as if they are lovers perfectly framed in the blue holo glow.

Something about the kiss, more sweet than sloppy, makes Gamora afraid. Because it’s understandable to be under the influence of sex pollen and want to hump everyone in sight until you are broken and still begging for it, but a kiss is a cry for love in the dark. It’s something you mull over quietly the day after, attempting not to look at one another over breakfast.

To her overwhelming relief, Drax breaks the kiss with Peter. He looks at her instead. “I can taste you on his mouth.”

Peter lets out one of his nervous laughs. 

“Are you certain?” Gamora stares at Drax’s lips, looking for a hint of cum on them.

With his free hand, he runs his fingers through her hair, wraps it around his knuckles, and brings her head forward slowly, gently. When their mouths touch, he skates his teeth over her bottom lip and Gamora stops caring. 

She is so focused on his lips, she is unsure what he means when he pulls away and says, “So can you taste yourself?”

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Peter says.

Drax casually pushes another finger inside of him and Peter whines like a feral creature. “Your insides are hot. Utterly warm. I hope to fuck you, soon. I will have you on all fours, perhaps.”

Peter goes pink around his ears. “I like it better when I can see someone’s face.”

“And, in the heat of the moment, I enjoy watching the curve of my lover’s back.” Drax considers this. “Gamora, would you consider being beneath him as I take Peter from behind? Would that not solve our problem?”

She smiles. “It would.”

At first, it is the both of them on their stomachs. Drax’s fingers really are confident and so slick with lubricant, she comes to associate the wet, cool slide of his digits with his body. He works them from behind. Gamora’s sex is invaded with care in contrast to Peter, at least from what she can see of his face. He bites his lip, eyes screwed shut, mouth gaping as sweat pours from his face.

“It’s good,” he grunts. “Fuck. God. More. I can take it.” He hides his face in his folded arms.

She reaches over to run her fingers along his. She’s rewarded with a shudder as he takes hold of her hand.

Then Drax pulls out of Gamora and Peter is rolling on top of her, kissing her ardently.

She pulls his head up by his hair and holds his face still. “Is he inside of you?”

“Four of my fingers are inside him.” Drax is panting. Over Peter’s shoulder, Gamora can see his hungry smile. “He is being so very good.”

Peter keens.

“Then you have to get inside me, too.” She grinds her hips into Peter’s swollen cock. As she thrusts several more times, she realizes she is too far gone to make their already misaligned organs slide into place. The mushroom head of his dick has difficulty finding purchase along her entrance, knotted and slick as it is, its internal tendrils beginning to climb out of her body.

Drax’s laughter is full and amused. “Such children,” he says as he reaches between them.

Peter’s cock presses inside Gamora and it feels strange to have him push through. They scream together as Drax begins to pump. Her tendrils massage his dick and he, in turns, begins to fuck her brutally.

It’s wonderful. Her vision swims and the lights melt together. She manages a messy kiss on his forehead as he cries out. 

Peter comes and Gamora still rides the waves of pleasure. Her hips jerk and she manages, “Let me—I want to. I want to watch.”

She is shaking as she pulls herself out from under Peter. Her slit gapes from the intrusion of his strangely shaped sex organ, some of his cum sliding out of her. He glances at this and then at her face and his breath leaves his body.

Drax chuckles and pours more lubricant onto his hand. Gamora watches as he slides each finger into his hole, finally folding the thumb inside.

And oh. Oh. His hand is huge.

Peter’s body is a thing of pure pleasure, sweat shipping on his back and thighs. Every muscle is tight.

She slides beside Drax. “Let me do it next.”

“Yes,” he says. “I can feel Peter tighten on the inside. He likes that idea.” Drax begins to work him in and out, the sounds wet and punctuated by Peter’s grunts.

Then it is Gamora with her fist inside Peter, calling him names like, “My sweet slut boy” and, “Our whore.” He feels good around her fingers, tight and delicious.

Drax indeed cannot achieve an erection, but he reveals to them his male sex organ. His penis has a dark bone-sheath that encases him like lattice work, sections revealing delicate, spongy flesh beneath. Peter nuzzles it sleepily as Gamora fucks him.

Pleased, Drax scans them both. “When I am in heat, I will take my turns with both of you. I can fuck a soul for hours, until they are a mess beneath me. I will use your mouths, your holes, your lips as receptacles for my cum. Then I will kiss every inch of your perfect bodies, wherever your hair may be, and I will wait until you are ready to be pleasured again.”

Gamora reaches her most violent orgasm as she listens to him. She pulls out of Peter and is, after that, pulled into a hot, sweaty embrace. It’s not just one or the other, but both of them at once, Peter’s face running his beard over her cheek and Drax kissing her neck. They sigh as they cuddle and it smells strange, salty, and good, like an ocean.

At this point, she falls asleep. That’s what it seems like when she wakes up during the alarm for the end of their sleep cycle.

Gamora is naked on the couch, covered only by her clothes, sticky and rumpled but serviceable as blankets. Seeing no one, she covers herself. Her pornographic holos are still out and she rushes to put them away.

Her head hurts and she is very tired. In the shower, she feels a little sick. They did very strange things to and with each other last night. She knows how Peter will avoid eye contact, how Drax will bring up the whole thing awkwardly and then say he will have no interest in repeating it again.

Gamora tries to smile into the showerhead as water pours over her skin. She had them. It wasn’t long, but she had them and she cherished them. Then her face crumples. The team has slipped through her fingers. Rocket and Groot will be around and they will be embarrassed for her. This new family she has is gone for they have seen the ugly, strange bits of her, the pornographic holos and perversions.

She leaves the shower, steam curling her dark hair. She is drying herself off when she hears Drax and Peter outside the door.

“No, no, I just called the doctor to ask. That’s all. It’s fine, man. It’s all good.”

“But I did not hurt you?”

“Oh man, Jesus! You look all concerned! No, come here. Yeah. Right here.”

Gamora opens the door to see Peter leaning up to kiss Drax, arms thrown over one another’s shoulders. Drax massages the fine hair at the nape of Peter’s neck with his large, pale fingers.

He’s the first to pull away. “But you must promise me you will get rest.”

“Aw, I ain’t tired.” Peter smirks.

“But I do not wish for you to ache.”

Now Peter winks at him. “Dunno. I kind of like it.” He turns the beam of his smile on Gamora. “How’s it going, sleepy-head?”

With an unsteady hand, she skids her fingers across his bearded face, looking to Drax to see if this is all right. Her throat is tight. She wants to ask if last night was all right, are they all right? “It goes well, yes.”

“Get a room!” Rocket bellows.

“I am Groot!” Cheerfully, Groot pulls him into a hug.

Rocket bites him. “No. No, absolutely not, stop, not outside the room!”

And Drax and Peter look entertained but then they see that Rocket has actually taken out one of his electro-pistols and now even Gamora must try to stop him. Her towel is lost in the resulting fray.

So yes, they are all right. They are the Guardians.


End file.
